


as the world caves in

by ghoultown



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher - Fandom
Genre: Awkwardness, Canon Compliant, Co-worker type beat, Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mutual Support, One Shot Collection, Puppet Theater, Quarantine, Ryan Bergara Loves Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara is Stressed, Ryan Bergara is an idiot, Shane Madej Loves Ryan Bergara, Shane Madej is Stressed, Shane Madej is an idiot, Tiny Angst, Universe Alterations, Vlog Therapy, but we're in watcher world baby, friends to boyfriends, idk if a canon applies to real people, kind of, not for long, sexting but instead of sex stuff it's stress relief, stress crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23135848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoultown/pseuds/ghoultown
Summary: Ryan is stressed. Shane is stressed. They each have their own stressors. They are both more than happy to pick up each other's pieces.(or a collection of times ryan and shane have been pushed to the limit while prepping for and working at Watcher Entertainment)
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 27
Kudos: 282





	1. Vlog Therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay. here's the deal. i said i would write happy stories for a month after the last angsty monstrosity, and for some reason my understanding of a happy fic is a semi-slow-burn one-shot-like fic where each of the boys is stressed and the other runs in to help. i don't know if that's actually the case, but uhhhhh here you go. 
> 
> also! this is the first fic where i've had to go back to their videos to make sure i got some little details right. i've done research for fics before, but never in the canon reality. so that was fun. this is also the first fic i've written in a LONG time that places the boys in their "real environment," so hopefully it's good! i'll probably be getting back to AU nonsense soon but i love a good comforting fic so i'll try this out. 
> 
> hope you enjoy! keep an eye on the chapter number, it may very well change.

When Ryan started filming himself during this whole process, he thought it would be a sort of coping skill. That was the point of it, anyway, to make him feel better.

The stress had been slowly building over the past few months, as it does. It creeps. Ryan had complained much about the stress in the past, even before Watcher was even a possibility. Shane was a good receptacle for stress complaints, that was the majority of their conversations off-mic while filming or editing Unsolved. The grip of stress was not unfamiliar, nor was it Ryan’s main concern.

It wasn’t the stress that made him hope the filming would raise his spirits. It was the fear.

On a cool and unsurprisingly normal night, Ryan found himself stepping out of the bright lights of the bank onto the sidewalk. The confidence he held in his chest during the transaction immediately wore off as soon as he began to walk, his feet stumbling as though they’d forgotten how to walk.

He’d put in his last bit of capital in the company, the last of his own personal investment. As he increased the distance between himself and his money, his hand strayed to the pocket of his hoodie. If vlog-therapy was going to work, he needed it now.

It felt ridiculous, doing it in public. He was ten videos in but all of his attempts were in the privacy of his own home. As soon as he clicked record, a group of people passed. He attempted a casual head nod.

It was a mess. He was grasping for words, stress sinking heavy into his clothes. He was glad he thought to wear this hoodie – as monstrous as it was, his bright orange jacket always seemed to make him feel safe.

“It’s weird to put that much money into something that is basically just… I guess, me betting on myself. And also on Shane and Steven. And that, you know, that we can make this thing work.” He had said. “Crazy.” It was. It was the craziest idea and the craziest group of people to execute it and he told himself actively that that was a good thing.

He spoke until he couldn’t anymore, until the thoughts he had to say were too negative to bear. As soon as he stopped the video, he stopped at the curb to text Shane – _all in._ At this moment in time, they didn’t know they would need more money. They didn’t know a lot of things. But Shane replied within seconds – _this is our braveheart, buddy!_ – and it didn’t matter at all.

He stepped off the curb, jogging across the street.

The night they met in his kitchen was a memory that was fuzzy in all the wrong places. The decision had been made before the meeting – the meeting was just a sort of initiation into the concept of working together. All they’d done was converse, express excitement and self-belief, pride in each other. The next day would mark the planning, the paperwork and bank accounts and _reality_ stuff. But it could wait. Ryan knew that as he showed everyone to the door. Exactly _what_ they said was gone with time and it might be better that way.

Shane was last out of the door, helping to clean up the mess they’d made (even if it was half the damage that Ryan could have done himself). The conversation they had then is one of the clearest memories Ryan has from that night. They awkwardly circled the island, holding respective garbage bags and sweeping discarded snacks and drinks into them. A lot of their words had been depleted beforehand so the majority of what they said was just, _“This is crazy,_ and, _“What a night.”_ Ryan didn’t mind. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be alone quite yet, even if it was inevitable.

Moments after Shane left, Ryan’s phone buzzed.

_How are you feeling about this?_

Ryan had to think for a while. He walked from the door (where he’d stood for a while, just standing) to sit down. Shane’s text bubbles popped up and down again as if he wanted to elaborate. Eventually, Ryan caved and replied.

_I don’t know. I’m glad we’re doing this._

_Other than that? I really don’t know._

_Me too._

_I’m sure it’ll end up great._

_Beyond our greatest dreams._

_Yeah._

_Wait, aren’t you driving?_

_Nah. In an Uber._

_I didn’t drink too much,_

_but better safe than dead._

Ryan cringed at that sentiment. Shane was always so morbid when he was buzzed.

_Jesus._

_Sorry._

_Are you sure you’re okay?_

_Yeah. I believe in us._

_I’m trying vlog therapy._

It took Shane awhile to respond. Ryan could picture Shane’s face, doubtful.

_What the fuck is vlog therapy?_

_You know what, I don’t want to know._

_As long as it helps._

Ryan took that as the end of a conversation. He placed his phone face down on the couch and stood to take a shower. Before he could move out of earshot, it buzzed again. Ryan wouldn’t admit this, but he definitely ran to check.

_I might need to take it up._

_I have a feeling that building my_

_own puppet theater_ _will be taxing._

Ryan had, surprisingly, forgotten about the puppet theater. It was one of the only fleshed out concepts Shane had – he wanted to do a show about history, and he wanted puppets. Shane loved to go ridiculously far with his projects (that was how Dr. Goondis was born, anyway – a lot of time and stress probably culminated into the horrific creature known as Dr. Goondis). His ideas would seldom end in half-assed results.

_I can’t imagine!_

_Looks like the next few months_

_are going to be rough._

He regretted the sentence as soon as he sent it. The night was so positive and his intrusive thoughts were creeping in so soon with so little prelude. He watched the text bubbles dance at the bottom of the screen for a long time. He bit his nails. What a way to ruin the bubble of safety they’d created over the past few hours. How dare he stick his finger out and return them to reality so soon?

It took a while for Shane to respond. When he finally did, Ryan let out a long sigh.

_You know I’m here, right?_

_To help. Or to talk to, whatever you need._

_Whenever._

Ryan bit his thumbnail as he replied. Possibly to smother a smile. All of his regret washed away. Shane was always here to help. Why did he expect anything different?

_Yeah, man._

_Thanks._

Ryan almost took a video of himself, saying something along the lines of _I was nervous and… uh, a little scared. But you know, I think it’ll be okay._ He almost did –

_So._

_How are you doing?_

_(I’m stalling the end of the conversation.)_

_(Please tell me you’re_ _doing_

_something_ _in_ _teresting.)_

\- but he was too busy texting Shane. Showers could wait, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my only dream is to be best friends with shyanlibrary


	2. Puppet Theater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is another instance of doing research for this story for absolutely no reason - i rewatched the making watcher episode and listened to shane's commentary on the first episode of puppet history. 
> 
> i get the feeling that shane gets really excited about these projects and goes very hard on himself when it doesn't end up how he expected, which really makes me sad!!!! all of his artistic efforts are amazing
> 
> anyway. i hope you enjoy !

In principle, building a puppet theater should have been easy. It was a box with curtains. That’s what Shane thought while planning the thing – it’s just a box with curtains.

The building of the puppet was pretty straight forward. Fun, even. He ordered the body of the puppet online – a sentence that, when heard aloud, made him deeply uncomfortable – and changed some little things. The eyes, the eyebrows. He added little glasses, the little hat, his little outfit, his little bag. He loved his little Professor creature, gave him several small pats on the head when (he thought) no one was looking.

But the building of the puppet theater… was… truly insane.

Box with curtains – that was the plan. He bought cardboard and cut it apart, ended up staring at the large pieces on the carpet for a while before he realized that the theater would have to _function._ Not only would the box have to have curtains, but those curtains would have to be able to be manipulated. He made a string-pulley system, in the end. It wasn’t pretty but it worked. Most of the time.

The box structure itself was very disappointing. He had the box, he had the curtains, it wasn’t enough. He attempted to avoid continuing to build the theater by finding a way to make it portable. It was a cardboard box, it could fold in on itself. A very poor attempt, in retrospect.

He dragged himself to Joann Fabrics, trying to smother his dread by masking it with the excitement of going to the art store. This was just a fun project, he had to remind himself, something he wants to do. He was very susceptible to advertising, particularly at a fabric store. He left the store with two hundred dollars worth of miscellaneous supplies for his weird fever dream (as well as a few bags of jelly beans for snacks, down the road) and he felt pretty good about himself.

As soon as the lights he ordered came in, he got to work. But not without calling Ryan first.

Ryan answered before the first drone could finish. _“Hey.”_

“Hi,” Shane said. He pinned his phone between his cheek and shoulder as he lowered himself to the ground, sitting cross-legged in the middle of all of his supplies. Every time he looked at the shell of a theater he’d already started, he would feel disappointment settle in his chest. “I’m having a crisis. Needed some support – have I caught you at a bad time?”

There was a quiet laugh on the other end. _“You sound like a telemarketer._ ”

“I guess if you have time to make fun of me, you have time to talk,” Shane let out a long sigh, looking at the semi-circle of potential around him. “The puppet theater is a disaster and I wanna quit.”

_“Can’t quit now. You’ve already got your little blue guy. You gotta make him a home.”_

“The Professor doesn’t _live_ in the puppet theater, it’s his classroom.” Shane scoffed, mostly at himself, “And I should have just bought one. It would have cost the same and I wouldn’t feel like crying all the time.”

 _“Oh, I think you’re being dramatic.”_ Shane smiled at the words. _“Besides, you always take these things seriously, but that’s how they end up being so awesome. You’re gonna make this theater and it’ll be the best damn puppet theater on the planet.”_

“Oh, and I’m the dramatic one,” Shane put the phone on speaker, placing it next to the roll of white fabric. “Thanks, man. I guess I am catastrophizing a bit.”

 _“A bit. But we all do.”_ There were a few seconds of shuffling. _“I don’t even know what it looks like, but I’m sure it’ll blow me away.”_

“I don’t think _any_ puppet theater would be able to get that reaction.” Shane hesitantly reached out and took the scissors into his hands. “But you know, that’s pretty encouraging.”

_“Here to help.”_

It sounded like a closing statement. Shane didn’t want to hang up – he didn’t want to be left alone. He hadn’t been this stressed in a long time, not since he left school. Ryan always calmed him down but the effects only lasted for a short period after they’d stop talking. As soon as his hopeful mood wore off, nothing was getting done.

“Look,” he said carefully. “I don’t know how busy you are right now but if I’m left alone to do this by myself, it’s never getting done.”

_“You’ve caught me at a perfect time.”_

Shane let out a long sigh. “Thank God. I just need to keep you on the phone long enough for this cardboard box to start looking right, and then I’ll let you go.”

 _“Sounds good to me.”_ More shuffling. Probably getting comfortable. The faintest sound of a Mac powering up. _“So, what all are you even adding? Use as much detail as you want, but I absolutely must know what you’re doing.”_

“Oh, well.” Shane slid the box closer to himself, pushing himself up to sit on his knees. “I have to line the inside with cloth, and I’m not sure if the outside will have fabric. I have enough, if I wanted. _Oh,_ and I have to add the lights I bought somewhere, not sure where I’ll put those – “

_“Lights? You’re adding lights to this thing?”_

“Uh, yeah?” Shane froze in place, hands hovering over the white cloth. “Am I not supposed to?”

_“No, go for it… I mean, I guess I just thought… like, you’d just have a cardboard box with curtains. Didn’t know there were lights involved.”_

Shane let his shoulders relax, resuming his actions. “Yeah, I thought I’d be happy with a box with curtains. Turns out that isn’t enough. I was thinking I’d have, like, a question portion or something.” He bit his lip, trying to knock a just-out-of-reach pencil closer to himself with the pair of scissors. “The thought of a puppet yelling _question!_ every few minutes makes me laugh and I thought a light show would accompany that nicely.”

_“That sounds pretty theatric.”_

Shane held the white fabric up against the back of the box, marking where the corners were. “Yeah, it is. I’ve got skits and music numbers all lined up – “

 _“Oh, my God.”_ Shane let the fabric fall into his lap, grabbing the scissors again, trying not to be too pleased with how _hard_ Ryan was laughing. _“I regret ever doubting your idea for a puppet host. This is gonna be magical.”_

“I get why you thought it wouldn’t be a good idea, though.” Shane’s tongue peeked out through his lips as he carefully cut along the faint pencil lines. “You know, me being hidden and all.”

_“It was a bold assumption of me to think that you hiding in a box would, in any way, dampen the Shane-ness of a puppet show.”_

“It’s gonna be pretty uhhh Shaney.” He cringed at the words but couldn’t take them back. “Let’s hope stressing over a puppet show will be worth it in the long run.” He paused, taking a gander at his surroundings. “You know, I look pretty pathetic, right now. A grown man building a puppet theater, alone in his apartment.”

 _“It’ll be worth it,”_ Ryan’s voice was too convincing to dismiss. _“I know it will be.”_

Two weeks later, the stress that Shane was feeling while building a stupid box with curtains seemed like a minor inconvenience.

Shane got the call twelve hours before they were set to film the first episode. It was ominous, even to Shane, to get a call from someone you plan to shoot a video with the night before you expect to see them. There were two possible topics of conversation. One good and one bad. And they would have texted if it was good news.

Shane had his teeth clenched the entire time. Not because he was angry. Of course not. Harrison was an old friend from college who majored in American history – Shane just thought, who better to talk to with puppets than a history major? It was a funny concept, at least in theory. Harrison was happy to help. And he was a relatively non-intimidating guest with no pressure to impress him.

But he had to go to a wedding last minute. That happens, that’s life. But, for reasons beyond Shane’s control, this one change made everything crash down around him. He made it through the call, thanking him for his time and telling him to have a good time at the wedding. Harrison really sounded apologetic and Shane took it at face value.

As soon as they dropped the call, Shane sat in the middle of the floor and cried. He didn’t bother turning his phone off. He just clutched it in his fingers and let his body shake, his body wracked with sobs. The puppet theater was folded up in the corner, mocking him.

Shane kept most of the sound in his throat, thinking that a silent sob over something stupid was more mature than a loud one. He wanted to be loud, though, and scream at God or something. Before he could get the chance to do so, he heard a faint voice. It’s difficult to pause a cry, however, the fear that someone could hear him doing so overrode the need to finish crying.

He looked down at the phone in his hand. Unlocked, showing a contact, a voice speaking to him from the screen that read… _Ryan._

Slowly, holding a sob between his teeth, he brought the phone to his ear.

_“Shane, dude. Are you okay? I could hear you breathing.”_

Shane cleared his throat. “Hey.” His voice was still gummy and gravelly, stuck that way until he could finish his cry. “Sorry, I must have pressed something.”

_“No, that’s fine. Are you crying?”_

Shane thought about that for a second. He couldn’t say he is because that would have made it seem as though he wanted Ryan to hear him like this, but he very clearly sounded like he was crying. Because he was.

“Uh, it’s fine,” he said instead. “Sorry.” That was worse, somehow.

 _“Shane, what’s up?”_ His voice had gone soft. _“Are you safe?”_

“Yeah, I’m just. I’m home, I’m safe.” Shane took a gasping breath which gave it away as if it hadn’t been abundantly clear how not-okay he was. The amount of stress that had rocketed up within an hour was almost too much to bear. “Uh.”

_“Do you need me to come over?”_

And have Ryan see him like this? “No, I’m good. Sorry, I guess… uh, stress, I guess.”

_“Did… well, did something happen?”_

“Hm,” Shane said. He ran a hand through his hair, laying down on the ground, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s nothing, just. I had a guest lined up for tomorrow that canceled just now. It isn’t too serious, I’m just… tired.”

 _“They cancelled?!”_ Ryan’s outrage made Shane feel a little better. At least he wasn’t _totally_ overreacting, it was a sucky situation. _“That’s low, man. And so last minute?”_

“Yeah, it was… I don’t know why it got me, but I’m crying on my floor.”

_“At least you weren’t alone, I was here.”_

Shane sniffed and wiped his eyes. “You’re right.”

 _“Hey, it’s okay, man. Really.”_ Ryan paused for a long second, _“I’m sure we can get Steven to step in as a guest. Take a deep breath.”_

Shane did. He took a few breaths. Ryan waited patiently. “I didn’t even think about next steps. I just hung up and collapsed on the nearest surface. Kinda… like a Disney princess.”

_“That’s a cute description!”_

Shane ignored that. He tried to, anyway. He probably looked ridiculous, smiling so wide with tears streaming down his cheeks. But Ryan couldn’t see him, so it was fine. He rolled himself to sit up.

“Thanks.”

Of all the things Shane had to worry about, he definitely didn’t want to juggle this terrible crush he’d been fostering for a good few years. Even if he was feeling vulnerable.

_“Do you need me to do anything? I can text Steven if you need.”_

“No, I can do that. I can… it’ll be fine.” Shane looked down at himself. He was a mess. “I’ll be together by tomorrow, I promise.”

_“I don’t give a shit if we have to reschedule the space, Shane. We can find another time – “_

“No, I’m… I’m really excited to do this. I’m just tired and vulnerable. I’ll be… you’re gonna love it.” He managed a smile, “It’ll be great. I’ll ask him if he’s free, and if not… we’ll figure it out.”

There was a long silence. Shane almost thought Ryan had fallen asleep or something.

_“Shane… you know, I don’t want to make this sound like I’m belittling you, but I don’t know how to say this in a way that doesn’t sound like I’m doing that – but we’re all messes right now, you know?”_

Shane bit his lip. He wasn’t really sure where this was going, but his chest ached. ”Mhmm.”

 _“You’re usually the one who comforts us and stuff, but we’re all going through it so… uh, so, if you’re crying and you need to call someone, please do. One of us.”_ Ryan spoke quietly as if he didn’t want anyone else to hear, but there was no one else around. _“Even funny guys break down.”_

Shane laughed at that. “Bold of you to assume I’m funny.”

Ryan laughed back, almost hysterically. It blew out the phone’s speakers. _“See? You’re funny.”_

“Thanks, Ryan.” Shane needed a shower. “Back to regularly scheduled programming.”

_“If that’s what you want, man. Make sure to drink water.”_

He rolled his eyes, “Okay, mom. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

_“You sure will.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i never beta, i hope this is comprehensible anyway


	3. Launch Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's some sweet comforting nonsense
> 
> also some pictures i drew of the boys being disheveled and stressed. thought they added a bit to this story. anyway, i love you! hope you enjoy. more to come.

The night before launch, in the beginning, was easy as pie for Ryan.

The stress and fear were still there, sure, but Shane and Steven were there as well. Steven would offer cookies, Shane would take them without fail. Shane was cracking jokes and wearing that stupid beanie. It was safe in their joint office. Everything was uploaded and prepped for the morning’s chaos.

Then they went home. Ryan stopped for tacos, ate them in the parking lot, went home to pass out. That was the plan, that was the ideal situation.

Ryan laid there for an hour, two hours, beyond. He waited for sleep to come, for the beating in his chest to calm, but it never happened. Every time he’d nearly slip off, he’d jump awake at the thought that they’d missed something. They hadn’t updated the description. They hadn’t proofed their posts. There was a typo in the video. (There wasn’t, of course, just a voice in his head that was slowly coaxing him toward cardiac arrest.)

He recorded another video. He grabbed his glasses and took his phone, wanting to try again on this vlog-therapy idea he was so eager to find solace in. Once he recorded everything, once the morning came and everything was fine – and it _would_ be fine – he’d put all the videos onto a USB and throw it into a bonfire.

Unlike before, when he walked home from the bank, the words flowed with little resistance.

“You know,” his eyes locked on the ceiling for a moment, feeling silly for recording himself but still set on the idea that this was helping, “I think I vacillate between… thinking this is gonna be a huge success, everyone’s gonna love the trailer, everyone’s gonna love what we’re trying to do… and then there’s another part of my brain that feels like no one’s gonna care.”

Saying the words out loud made something in his brain break. Thinking it for months wasn’t too much of a hassle, but hearing himself? Alone? Filming himself? Jesus. He was the image of loneliness, of doubt.

After finishing his thought, he locked his phone and let it fall on his bare chest. He considered throwing it against a wall, but that would be counter-intuitive. He closed his eyes, not moving to take his glasses off, trying to breathe. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his eyelids.

Then, his phone buzzed. He flipped it over with his index finger, staring at the notification. He had a hunch who it might be.

Shane had texted. He’d been doing this often. The amount they’d texted each other over the past month or so was astronomical, higher than it had been before this whole ordeal. It was like seeing a completely different side of his best friend.

_Hey, are you awake?_

_Yes,_ he responded embarrassingly fast.

A few rooms away, he heard a knock on the front door. He shot up, his phone tumbling to the floor, stumbling over his own feet as he crept through the apartment toward the source of the noise.

He didn’t want to get his hopes up. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. If he opened the door and Shane wasn’t there, he’d riot – but, alternatively, the likelihood of someone else coming to his place so late was too low to even consider.

He didn’t bother looking through the peephole – he knew who it was, probably, and the peephole was so foggy it would have meant nothing.

Ryan pulled the door slow, if just to slight himself, but Shane peeked around the door with his huge head before the entire sweep could be finished. Shane appeared to be out of breath, though he clearly wasn’t. It was his vibe – the vibe of being out of breath. Maybe Ryan was sleep deprived.

“Hey,” Shane said. He had his hands on his hips, attempting a casual look that was failing terribly.

“Hi?” Ryan smiled, “You wanna come in, or did you just have a message?”

“Both.” Shane’s face split into a tired grin. Ryan realized he was wearing a white t-shirt and blue pajama bottoms. The plaid ones. Like in a movie.

“Well, come in then.” He stepped to the side to welcome him in, Shane following without a second thought. He waited until Shane was standing in the center of the living room, looking around as if he’d never seen the place. “What is your message, traveler?”

“Uh,” Shane chuckled, running a hand through his hair, almost as if he was realizing in real time how crazy the entire situation was, “The message is… that I am very nervous about tomorrow.”

Ryan’s knees nearly buckled and tears came to his eyes before he could even begin to laugh. When the laugh did come, it wracked him so hard he had to brace his palms on the floor and lower himself to sit on the carpet, clutching his stomach. Shane had followed, curled up in a ball on the sofa and desperately wiping at his eyes – he was never one to admit that he laughed so hard he cried, he liked to tell people that was Ryan’s thing, but he did it quite a lot.

The laugh lasted at least five minutes, long enough to hurt but long enough to _cleanse._ It was like an exorcism. All his stress, all his fear, forgotten for five, wonderful minutes. Shane rested his cheek against the soft couch cushions, belly-down, as he caught his breath. Ryan laid on his back on the carpet. They both found the courage to look at each other, giggles smothered down to a hint of a smile.

“Glad to see you find my nerves funny, Bergara,” Shane said fondly, so soft-looking with his face smushed against Ryan’s couch. _Ryan’s couch. Shane was actually here._

“No, I just. I couldn’t sleep because _I’m_ so nervous.” Ryan rested on his elbows, looking up at Shane. It was then he realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Shane’s eyes had strayed from his face, down ever so slightly. His eyebrows raised. “Why is your face doing that?”

“Have you been working out?” Shane asked, immediately making a face at his delivery. “I mean, more than usual.”

“No, actually, I haven’t gone to the gym in a month.” Ryan pursed his lips. He wasn’t awake enough for this. “Stop checking me out.”

Shane covered his eyes with his hand, “Hard not to. You’re naked.”

“Not _naked_ , idiot.” Ryan couldn’t find something to throw at Shane so he just pushed himself to stand. “I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight. I’m gonna make coffee. Do you want any?”

“I’d kill for some.” He reached his hand out. Ryan stared at it for awhile before hesitantly reaching out to shake it. “We’ll get through this together.”

It was too genuine for Ryan’s liking. He let go before he was ready to.

“I got a new Keurig. This’ll be the first time she’s used, so consider yourself part of history.” The words and sentiment didn’t _quite_ make sense, but Shane perked up anyway.

“Nice!” Shane grinned. “Have you named it yet?”

“No, I’m not weird.” Ryan thought of a bit Shane would like as soon as the words escaped his mouth. He quietly muttered, faux-shy, “Susan.”

Shane tilted his head back, practically barking a laugh (just as Ryan had expected). “ _Susan!_ I love it.”

 _Thought you would,_ he almost said. Instead, he opened the cupboard above the counter, “I only have Columbian. Is that okay?”

“You could give me poison and I’d thank you.” Shane said. Ryan turned to look at him, trying to read what the tone was meant to be. It wasn’t clear on his friend’s face. “Honestly, I don’t care.”

“Ah. Okay.” Ryan turned back to what he was doing. He brewed two cups of coffee in silence, glancing back every few minutes to see if Shane was still there. He always was, settled in the corner of the couch with his head resting in his palm, watching. Susan made wheezing noises and, as much as Ryan wanted to comment on it, he knew that Shane didn’t mind. No need to apologize for trivial things. Shane wouldn’t care.

On the walk back to the couch, his body seemed to make a collective realization that he hurt. He hurt _badly._ He handed Shane his cup and fell into place, a splash of hot coffee trickling over his fingers.

“Ugh,” Ryan moaned, sinking into the couch cushions. “I’m sore, like, everywhere, but I haven’t gone to the gym in weeks.”

“Huh,” Shane hooked his arm around the back of the couch. He had his palm over the top of the mug, fingers gripping the sides, the steam probably cooking his hand. He didn’t seem to mind. “Do you want a massage?”

Ryan’s lips curled up, expecting Shane to flash that cheeky grin he does or waiting for his eyes to go all sparkly like they did when he told a bad joke. Neither happened. All that was apparent on Shane’s face was genuine curiosity, maybe slight concern. His eyebrows were raised, tilted up toward the top of his nose, sort of like a puppy.

“Uh.” Ryan said, eventually. “No, uh. No thanks.”

Shane shrugged. “Alright. Just thought I’d ask.”

It probably would have felt nice, Shane’s hands (warmed from the mug) on his bare shoulders. In retrospect, he figured he would regret it. But there was no part of Ryan that would feel entirely comfortable having Shane give him a massage. Shane had come over to chat, full of nerves. Ryan didn’t want him to have another job to do, anyway. That would be too much.

So they sat, watching British television episodes on YouTube, sipping coffee and periodically repeating certain phrases in terrible accents. Though tired in the morning, they had no complaints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now that were already here, and i hate to do this,,, i think i’m gonna need more chapters. maybe just one or so but ummmm yeah. so keep a look out! thank you for reading!


	4. Tourist Trapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're going back in time a lil bit my bad

Before the launch, as they were filming and getting their ducks in a row, the tension was high. In retrospect, Ryan remembered the conception of one of the craziest and most self-indulgent shows and one truth was abundantly clear: It was a wonder that they’d managed to make money from this.

Puppets and haunted houses were strange sources of income, sure. They’d already been doing things like that for years. The living they’d made as friends, one full of shenanigans and ghosts, and they were somewhat accustomed to that. But to plan a day or two full of, let there be no mistake, dates? To have a good time with the one person you want to spend time with? His life was a simulation.

Ryan thought of it in a lapse of thinking – his brain was blank, hundreds of miles in the air on a plane, seconds after a nap. A perfect show, just having fun. Spending time with Shane in his element. He remembered getting off the plane and texting Shane his idea, just to be met with Shane’s nearly identical pitch that would be developed into Weird and/or Wonderful World.

It was a gamble. It was a big gamble, to make one and only one episode of a show simply to have an excuse to spend more time with Shane than he already was. He also loved tourism, he loved campiness, he loved so much about Los Angeles. But he also loved Shane…’s taste in scenery. A win-win.

They filmed Tourist Trapped over the course of two and a half days.

In theory, it was going to be fun. For the most part, it was. Ryan got to sit with Shane in close quarters for most of those days, eating food and drinking alcohol and having the most romantic day Ryan’s had in years. It was a perfect opportunity with all of the perfect factors for a life connection.

The problem was the cameras.

It’s a hard reality. Ryan and Shane had gotten quite good at being genuine despite the crew of people filming them constantly – it wasn’t easy. It’s tempting to play up a good time for a video, he was guilty of it in the past. But Shane was a good guy with good intentions – Ryan didn’t want to be this gooey, but he couldn’t help it – and it was easy to get swept up in the strange yet positive Shane brought.

They both were directors of their respective pieces. Between the comfortable times and the good food, they had to step out of their dates and into their jobs. Shane’s smile would fade ever so slightly into an expression of concentration as he directed Matt and Mark, gesturing to the glass at Randyland and trying to describe what he was picturing. The Starline tour was a disaster – Ryan wanted to bask in Shane’s muted contempt and equal joy, but there was a constant need to put on his director hat. It’s hard to film in a moving car with a bunch of other pedestrians. The paperwork involved was nearly too much for him to bear.

There was nothing that could bring Ryan more joy than seeing Shane hug a giant Snoopy. It was a good bit, for certain. Maybe he wanted to be on the receiving end of that hug, but you know. Whatever.

Ryan invited Shane back to his place afterward. He wasn’t particularly smooth about it, tired from social exertion and craving alone time (with Shane). It was crazy – he was a grown man and this was how he was behaving?

Shane had folded to Ryan’s request, buzzing with hyper energy. “Absolutely. Not ready to go back home yet.” Shane still had his label-less Gatorade bottle in one hand, the sun slowly crawling down the sky. They decided to take the elevator as a treat, a good way to end an overall decent outing. As they stood silently in the elevator, the cabin rattling every few minutes, Shane shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at him. His shoulders were scrunched up by his ears. “So. What are your plans with me?”

Ryan went pale. Shane didn’t look like he meant… uh, anything like that. He just looked like Shane. Ryan was overreacting.

“Hm,” he pretended to think. “I got some crappy popcorn and an Amazon Prime subscription.”

Shane laughed, shoulders shaking. “Why Amazon Prime?”

“They’ve got some really shitty psychological movies. I saw one the other day and saw one… I can’t remember the name, but it was really awful.”

Shane squinted. “And you want us to watch an awful movie… why?”

The eye contact he was holding was getting tiresome. Maybe it was just today, the closeness and the tiredness, that exacerbated Ryan’s crush. He’d made eye contact with Shane plenty of times. But now, even as the elevator doors open, he found it hard to break it.

“I don’t know,” Ryan stepped out into the hallway. “Just helps me relax after a hard day.”

Shane followed closely, the tips of his shoes almost clipping Ryan’s heels. “Was today hard for you?” He sped up (which wasn’t difficult), craning his neck to look over Ryan’s face.

 _Yeah, because you hugged Snoopy and not me._ “Not necessarily,” Ryan slowed down slightly to stop Shane from doing the weird chase-thing he was doing. “Like I said. Not sure why I’m getting bad movie vibes, but… alas.”

“ _Alas,_ ” Shane said, eyes sparkling, coming to a near full-stop in the middle of the hallway. He looked as if he was going to applaud. “Good word.”

“Thanks.” The brief moment of nervousness washed away. He smiled, tugging his keys out of his pocket. “Thought of it myself.”

The movie was called _The Perception._ However Ryan thought Shane was going to react, he was underestimating. Within the first fifteen minutes, Shane was throwing popcorn at the television.

“He wants him to _what?!”_ Shane had a handful of popcorn ready to launch but instead decided to bring it to his mouth. “Ryan, what… how did you find this… why…?”

Ryan hid his smile behind his shirt collar, “It’s called _The Perception,_ Shane. Open your mind a little. You’re not… you’re not _perceiving_ it correctly.”

Shane gaped at him for a while. The man on the screen was reading his terrible prose aloud and Shane’s eye twitched. “I am appalled… at your treatment of me, I am your _guest._ ”

“You’re throwing popcorn on my floor, sir.” Ryan didn’t mind. He reached over and placed his popcorn bowl on the coffee table. “I think you’re a terrible guest, if I may be frank.”

“You’ve lost my business!” Shane made no move to get up, still eating popcorn out of the palm of his hand. He was making it hard to watch the screen. “Do you think the actors knew how bad this was when they were making it, or?”

“Uh, well.” Ryan cleared his throat. “I don’t think they did know because… there’s a scene later in the film where you can definitely tell the main guy thought he was doing _brilliantly_.”

Shane closed his eyes in anguish. “Ryan… you know I can’t stand that – “

“I know you can’t stand that,” Ryan was openly grinning now.

Shane’s eyes stayed closed. He could hear another self-indulgent prose-reading and groaned. Ryan crossed his legs for unrelated reasons. “You said this is how you cope with a hard day? This is more stressful than I expected.”

Ryan looked at him, “I mean, yes. Popcorn and company helps.”

Shane opened an eye. “Aw.”

Against his wishes, a laugh burst from his mouth. “What do you mean, _aw_?”

“I mean _aw._ That was a sweet sentiment, slightly undercut by the terrible fucking movie you’ve chosen,” Shane set his respective popcorn bowl in the basket of his legs, his eyes crinkled at the edges. “This must be a great day then. You’ve got popcorn _and_ you’ve had a heaping load of me the past few days.”

“Yeah, lucky me.” The tone falls flat but Shane gets it. “It wasn’t a rough day because of you, by the way. I feel like I didn’t make that clear.”

“No, no, I figured that.” Shane nodded. “If I’m making you mad, you tell me.”

“Right,” Ryan ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.”

“Speak your mind.” Shane sunk into the couch cushions, turning to face him. He threw a kernel at Ryan – it bounced off of his chest. “Sorry.”

Ryan shifted as well, his back pressed against the arm of the couch. “Are you initiating a heart-to-heart right now?”

“Yeah, you look troubled.”

“Troubled?”

“Yes. Talk.”

Ryan cleared his throat, folding his hands in his lap like the actor in the movie – Shane squinted at him. “Sorry. Uh, I just. I’m glad we’re doing what we’re doing and our jobs are incredibly fun. But… I don’t know, the job-part of today really freaked me out.”

Shane nodded, “Yeah, I thought it was weird too.”

“So it wasn’t just me?” A bit too hopeful.

“No, of course not.” Shane let out a long sigh. “More than usual, it was hard to jump from Ryan-time to work-time.”

Ryan raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I said Ryan-time. I mean it.” Shane relaxed even further, his shoulders going lax. “Today was pretty overwhelming, but you helped me get through it. Even though it wasn’t fun the _whole_ time, it was fun for a good bit of it. That’s as good as it gets.”

“Right,” Ryan bit the inside of his cheek. He pointed at the screen, “Oh, shit, this is an important part – you need to watch this. It kinda carries through the whole thing.”

Shane took a moment before he turned, just staring at the side of Ryan’s face as if he wasn’t sure he should move away from the moment. He hummed to himself, craning his neck to look at the screen and plunging his hand back into the popcorn bowl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's so late and i'm just trying to get to the part of the story where they hug or somethin.


	5. Fuck You, Davis

Shane hadn’t thought about his college days in quite a while. That was probably for the best.

It was odd that he had to face his past so suddenly, during _Chubby Have I Bunnied_ no less, but he didn’t have much time to think before he was stuffing a marshmallow into the side of his cheek. Part of his brain was trying to remember if he’d talked about this with Ryan or Steven in the past to make the question relevant enough to ask. He asked the keg stand question with Ryan in mind, even looking toward him as he asked, but Ryan seemed to keep his eyes forward.

Steven said something, muffled by ‘mallow, but Shane was already trying to explain himself.

“You go to parties in college – don’t smoke. Smoking is bad.” He licked his fingers, fully aware that the vibe he was giving was drastically different from moments before when he was laughing at Ryan’s history with keg stands. Andrew gives him a thumbs-up behind the camera, _you okay?_ , and he gives a gentle nod.

Then Steven said, “Never have I ever grown out a full mustache,” and he was pushed back into his head and continued.

At the moment of filming the eleventh episode of Watcher Weekly, Shane was in his thirties. It was his weird prime. He enjoyed looking strange, he was accustomed to it at that point. He was just coming out of his mustache phase – not his first one, mind you, but many people might say that the fact that it wasn’t the first mustache phase was worrying.

When he was in college, it was a completely different situation. He was trying out all the different Shanes he could manage to be – he tried on Cool-Shane a few times. He’d befriended people from every cohort he was aware of. Davis was in the tough-boy crowd. They had a British Lit class together at eight in the morning that Davis went to the first day and never bothered to return until the last week before exams. He had only returned to class that final week to recruit people for his end-of-year parties. The parties Shane has been invited to before this one had been pretty tame, but Davis had promised that his week-long extravaganza would be “off the chain.” That phrase alone made Shane feel as though it would be very much on the chain.

It was the same as all the others, by the way. It was a bottom floor full of drunk people, an upstairs hallway with drunk people desperately trying to find an empty room to get high and/or close and lock the door and pretend they were getting laid. Shane remembered laughing to himself for much of the night, not having anyone to talk to about the ridiculousness. He’d rather have been studying.

At some point, he wormed his way through the lackluster crowd and stumbled out onto the patio of the frat house. He remembered catching Davis coughing his lungs out with a cigarette between his fingers, holding it out and citing stress relief as the purpose. Shane was pretty sure Davis was just trying to look cool, but he took it anyway.

And now he’s thirty. And he’s pulling out of a gas station by his apartment with a pack of cigarettes and he’s trying to think of a clear reason exactly why this is the case. He doesn’t really want to pick up a smoking habit, that’s counterproductive to everything he’s been doing for the past ten years. But he takes it up to his apartment anyway and he leans on his balcony for a long time, staring down at his haul and laughing at himself every few minutes as if to prove to an invisible person that he also knows how ridiculous this is. He wasn’t going to smoke, he knew that. He wasn’t sure what he was doing here.

He put it on the back burner. There wasn’t any… uh, stress to alleviate. (Or, rather, no excuse if anyone were to ask.) He was the poster child for D.A.R.E., he wasn’t supposed to get roped into this kind of thing so easily. He wasn’t twenty anymore. Maybe he wanted to be twenty again? That couldn’t be it. He hated his twenties.

He's usually so good at handling himself, keeping himself together and convincing himself that everything will be okay. But then there will be a day or a week where his capability is placed on the edge of a table, balanced so that any movement whatsoever would knock him right down.

One week after Watcher Weekly was filmed, it went live. Also, by pure coincidence, Shane was leaving an interview with Character Media, his phone clutched in his hand so tight his fingers were numb. Self-isolation was starting soon, Ryan and Steven were busy, so he took the follow-up to the follow-up interview. He wasn’t sure if he could handle a week away from Ryan, much less a month. Much less _two_ months, if worst came to worst.

They still had work to do. Virtual conference calls existed, they were going to do those anyway. But it would be _harder._ And yeah, that’s what work is, but as he was trying to explain their situation to the woman from CM, he blanched. He said they’d “make it work,” that “if he had thought about this situation happening a few months ago, he would have had a panic attack.” Both accurate statements. However, the distinct lack of panic in Shane’s life has been because he’s had a support system. He could put his hand out to Steven and immediately get a high five. That was how he had managed.

But now, it was almost as if all connection was going to be severed. Phone calls were fine, he was fortunate to have that luxury. But he thrived off of touch – even a high five would work. Brushing elbows with his friends, seeing people face to face. His love language was touch, and now he was going to be deprived of it for god knows how long? It was going to be like slow suffocation.

When he returned to the apartment, as soon as he crossed into the threshold, his limbs felt heavy. This was a problem of his, holding his issues in until they became physically problematic. There were so many people in the world _truly_ suffering during this global crisis and he was going to complain about not seeing his friends for a few weeks? Really? As if that was even comparable.

He found himself out on the balcony again. He sat in one of the chairs, propped his feet up in the other (trying to set the scene, as if coolness factor was still important at all), and balanced the pack of cigarettes in his palm.

“This is stupid,” he muttered, ripping the plastic with his teeth.

He only lit it. He lit the end and stared at the flame for a few minutes, letting the heat crawl down the paper until it nearly reached his fingers. Shane took a long breath before leaning over and crushing the orange tip against the railing until the flecks of light disappeared. (He may have whispered “Fuck you, Davis” under his breath.) He tucked what was left back into the box, returning inside and throwing it into the trashcan by the kitchen sink. He looked down at it for a good few seconds before crushing it with his slippered foot. _That should do it,_ he thought, _crisis averted. Fuck you, Davis._

It hadn’t made him feel any better, unsurprisingly. That was the kicker. It was just a stupid moment of hope that one little action could take every ounce of stress away – stupid, indeed. He was never going to smoke, he knew that. The entire purchase was strange. He kicked his slippers off on the way to the bathroom, needing a shower and a couple of spin cycles for his clothes, stopping just before he reached the doorway as he heard a knock at the door.

His mission to smell better was immediately overwritten by deep anxiety at unexpected social contact. He had nearly come to terms with his solitude, and now this?

Shane nearly flung the door into the wall, ready to apologize for something, but instead, he was met with a familiar face obscured by brown bags full of food.

“Move aside, big fella. These things are heavy.”

“I – “ Shane said dumbly, stepping to the side. “Do you need help? With those?” _Also, what are you doing here? Is this a dream?_

“Nope, I got it.” Ryan tottered inside, “Thanks, though.”

Shane swallowed hard. He stood at the door, knocking it closed with an elbow. “Uh. Is Steven coming too?”

Ryan dropped the bags in his arms on the kitchen counter. He turned, glaring at Shane, “What, you don’t want to be alone with me or something?”

Shane could feel his heartbeat in his eyes. “What? No, I – “

“I’m kidding.” He smiled sweetly, “I asked if he wanted to come. He has a system and a very precise culinary routine he’ll be performing, so he passed,” Ryan slid his backpack off of his shoulders and rested it against the wall. He stammered for a moment. “I don’t – mean to assume that I’m bunking here for the next million years, I just… uh, needed some company. And – were you smoking? I smell smoke.”

Shane blinked. “No.” His hands migrated to his hips, looking over to the balcony for a moment. Ryan took a deep breath through his nose and looked at him as if he was saying _are you sure you want to lie to me?_ “Not really, I just lit… uh, one on fire. It’s not. I’m not.”

Ryan shook his head. He wore an expression that Shane couldn’t read. “Not even a full day into isolation and you’re destroying yourself.”

“I’m not – _destroying myself,_ Jesus. I just.” Shane laughed a little, maybe to keep from crying. “I don’t know, I was feeling stressed or something. People say it’s stress-relieving, and I thought about it. But I threw ‘em away.”

“Well, that’s good,” Ryan said. He rubbed his palms on the front of his shorts. He looked comfortable. “You’re stressed?”

“Uh.” Shane scratched the inside of his forearm. “Yeah – well, I won’t be now, but… yeah.”

Ryan tapped his foot, looking around. He spotted the crushed box in the trash can and nodded. “I’m gonna need a little clarification on why you had – “

“Can we just kinda chill for a bit? I’ll get you a beer or something.” He felt simultaneously relieved and overjoyed that Ryan was here and repulsed that he had come at such a terrible time. He wanted the tension in his shoulders and the banging in his head to cease immediately, but the embarrassment kept it afloat. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m just rattled right now.”

“Fair,” Ryan nodded. He looked around before letting his eyes settle back on Shane. “It’s okay that I showed up without texting?” He looked nervous.

“I mean, yeah,” Shane laughed. “I’m sorry you caught me being a mess. But you brought food and yourself, and I think I’d die without at least one of those things.”

Ryan’s eyebrows shot up. He smiled. Shane realized how needy he sounded.

“Well,” Ryan cleared his throat before Shane could rescind his statement. “Not to worry, big guy. I’m here!” He gave a jazz-hands-like gesture.

Shane nodded. He let out a deep breath. “Yeah, I’ll get you that beer. I’ll…” He moved from his place by the front door, completely meaning to walk to the fridge. He _meant_ to walk past Ryan and move toward the fridge. He meant to, but yet his feet brought him to stand right in front of Ryan, looking down at him. He bent down, rested his chin on Ryan’s shoulder, and limply wrapped his arms around Ryan’s waist. He sighed. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

Ryan patted his back for a few seconds before realizing this wasn’t just a random hug. He laid his hands flat on Shane’s back. “Hey. So am I.”

“I didn’t know how I was going to make it alone for the next few days,” Shane’s fist curled around a portion of Ryan’s shirt.

The man in his arms just shifted his head, cold cheek pressed against Shane’s neck. “Me neither, man. Why do you think I’m here?”

“Mm. ‘Cause you’re the best, probably.” Shane let Ryan’s shirt go a good ten seconds before he made any move to stop the hug. He stood straight, lips pressed together. He finally finished his fridge-voyage, grabbing a bottle for Ryan and holding it out. “There.”

“Right,” Ryan took it hesitantly before taking a deep, hissing breath in through his mouth. “I don’t mean to be a bad guest, but you smell like shit.”

“Well, I was _on the way_ to take a shower when you arrived. So, _you_ can fuck right off.” He turned to go into the bathroom, “And I just lit one, man. Seriously. For closure, or something. I’ll take a shower.”

“I know.” Ryan smiled and waved a hand. “So go do that. I’ll put these up.” He lifted a bag into his arms. He got to work faster than Shane had expected, opening drawers and cabinets to familiarize himself with the setup.

By the time Shane returned, Ryan had gotten changed into fleece pajama pants and was perched on the sofa, clicking through Amazon Prime with one hand and clutching his beer with the other.

“God, Ryan, what is it with you and Prime?” Shane fell onto the couch. Ryan offered his beer but Shane shook his head.

“You said you were stressed. This is the remedy.” Ryan smiled at him. “So. Between a cave movie and a shark movie, what are you – “

“Shark.” Shane didn’t have to think. “A shark movie.”

“Why did I even ask?” Ryan said, mostly to himself.

Shane couldn’t pay attention to the screen.

His entire brain was full of a new set of worries: where was Ryan going to sleep? He could take the bed, Shane would take the couch. But Ryan was definitely going to push back on that. Shane couldn’t fit all of his limbs on the couch when laying down. But he had to give Ryan the bed. How was the morning going to go? How long was Ryan going to stay? Forever, hopefully. Could they both sleep on the bed together? How would he ask Ryan?

It didn’t matter, though. Shane woke up on the couch with Ryan’s legs draped on top of his, the sun soaking his face in too-bright-to-sleep light.

Every part of his body hurt, but the sight of Ryan made him feel better. He carefully lifted Ryan’s legs, pinching the hem of his pajama pants and lifting them like some sort of toy crane machine, slipping out from under them. He wanted breakfast. Ryan liked breakfast too. He’d make breakfast – brilliant. He closed the blinds before he got too far, trying to elongate Ryan’s sleeping so that he could make it seem as though he was fully functioning.

He took a shower and brushed his hair afterward, something he’s never done before. He wasn’t sure what he was preparing himself for. Ryan had been here less than a day and he was already trying to, what, woo him? Ridiculous.

Ryan had apparently bought a lot more than Shane had expected. His fridge was near-empty when Ryan first arrived and now it was stocked full – more importantly, stocked with the perfect breakfast ingredients. Shane piled his arms full, balancing everything on the way to unload his haul beside the stove.

Cheesy eggs and bacon. Couldn’t go wrong.

Thankfully, they didn’t. They actually could have gone _very_ wrong, but Shane made sure to do a quick Google to avoid any real problems. He was lucky Steven decided not to come – ever the food expert, he might have ruined Shane’s confidence.

Over the sizzling in the pan, Shane would hear Ryan make little noises in his sleep every now and then. Every time this would happen, he’d get cold for no apparent reason. He could still feel the pressure of Ryan’s legs on his faintly. Shane ran a hand through his hair. He probably would have been better off alone – this was just embarrassing. Ryan was younger than him, yet _he_ was the one acting like a stupid teenager.

“Aw.” Shane almost jumped out of his skin, glad he wasn’t holding the pan, spinning to face a sleepy Ryan, who sat on the stool on the other side of the kitchen island. “Look, you’re making me breakfast.”

“Oh, you wanted some?”

Ryan smiled, his hair spiky and flat at the same time. “Ha. What’s on the menu?”

“Cheesy eggs and bac.” Shane threw up a lazy shaka sign. “If Steven came, it’d probably be fancier.”

“Right, since I’m not worth a fancy breakfast.” Ryan gave a sad face, grabbing his glasses from the pile of his clothes from yesterday. Shane couldn’t help but smile. “Whatever. Smells like heaven.”

“Yup.” Shane remembered the coffee he’d brewed and poured Ryan a cup, crossing the kitchen to hand it over.

Ryan took it with both hands, his fingertips brushing against Shane’s wrist. “Thanks.

A silence fell. Well, save for the breakfast ambiance. And the happy hum of his head as he looked at a cozy, sleepy Ryan.

Shane leaned on the counter beside the stove, his arms crossed over his chest. He could not have expected the words that were about to come out of his mouth. “Uh. I had a panic attack after the interview yesterday.” He said it much more casual than he could have ever hoped for.

He rubbed the sleep out of his left eye with his left hand, voice groggy but concerned, nudging his glasses up to his forehead, “Really? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m great.” He tightened his arms around himself. “Uh, I think I was most freaked out about being away from you.”

“That was my worry too,” Ryan leaned on his elbows, his glasses falling back to his nose, “I wasn’t able to sleep a few nights ago thinking about it. I don’t know. I figured we’d FaceTime every day or something, but that wouldn’t be the same.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Shane gnawed on the side of his cheek. He turned back to the bacon. “I wasn’t ever gonna tell you that, but. You’re here, so I might as well.”

“I’m glad you did,” Ryan said. “And I haven’t forgotten about yesterday, by the way.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. I didn’t even do anything.”

“Was it about that Never Have I Ever question?” Ryan sounded confused. Shane didn’t want to turn around, so he just pretended to flip a strip of bacon that didn’t exist. “You didn’t seem too bothered when I asked it, but I’m sorry if I – “

“No, I’m not bothered. Of course I’m not.” He threw a glance over his shoulder. “I’ve just been… fragile, these past few days.” He chuckled the word out, _fragile._ Like he was a glass cup. “I just hold all my nervous and freaky-outy energy in until I explode. In this case, I guess, try to relive the less glamorous part of college.”

“Hm. Here’s a thought – let the freaky-outy energy out before that happens.”

Shane turned around so fast, he nearly fell over. He was ready to get upset as if Ryan would have actually said that seriously. But the man was smirking, taking a long sip of coffee. The lenses of his glasses fogged up.

“Ha-ha, very funny.” Shane pointed at him with the spatula before returning to the very important task of just _watching_ bacon. He prodded at the scrambled eggs with the corner of the spatula.

“It isn’t easy, but you’re telling me things.” Shane could hear the mug thud against the counter. “So, at least you wanna change that. I don’t know if it’s a closeness issue or something, but I don’t care, y’know. You could complain about stuff _I_ do and I’d love to hear it.”

Shane raised an eyebrow, reaching over and turning the heat down. “Right, like I have to complain about you.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t know. But, for what it’s worth, I’d like us to get closer.”

Shane’s chest did something funny. He took the pan off the burner, pivoting. “Yeah?”

“Yup,” Ryan shrugged. “We talk to each other about stress all the time. If you have so much on your mind, I’d love to hear it. If that would help.”

“And I’d like to know what’s going on in your head sometimes, too.” Shane brought two plates over and set them in front of Ryan, trying to plate the food in a somewhat appealing way.

“Oh, come on,” Ryan scoffed. His shoulders rounded. “I unload all my brain shit on you all the time, man. I’d say, if we put our complaint correspondence into a pie chart – “

“A complaint correspondence pie chart, mhmm.”

“ - two-thirds of the chart would be my complaints, and like… less than a third would be yours.”

“So what’s the other less than a third?” Shane asked, gently tapping the spatula on the edge of one of the plates to get the remaining egg remnants off. “If you’re gonna make a chart here, you need to be accurate.”

“You get what I’m trying to say, though.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Shane said. He meant it. “Honestly, your complaints are valid. Mine are kinda ridiculous.”

“I doubt it.”

Shane shook his head, “Just trust me.” He handed Ryan a fork.

“Try me.”

“Eat your food.”

“Not until you give me _one_ ridiculous problem.”

Shane raised his eyebrows. He blanched for a moment before saying, quietly, “I thought I was gonna die if I didn’t get a high five from you for a week.”

Ryan’s expression didn’t change. “I almost got mad at you for hugging Snoopy instead of me at Knotts.”

That was news to Shane. “What?”

Ryan brushed non-existent dust off his shoulder. “I won.”

“No, seriously,” Shane walked around the island, sitting on the stool not occupied by Ryan’s clothes. “Please explain what that sentence even means.”

“That bit you did where you got off the rollercoaster and ran to Snoopy?” Ryan placed a fork-full of egg into his mouth, gesturing with the fork. “I was jealous of a mascot.”

Shane exhaled out of his nose, a humble laugh, head shaking. “Hilarious.”

“See? And I was upset about not getting to high five you as well. Or do this,” Ryan knocked his shoulder against Shane’s, “And it’s okay, by the way, that you chose Snoopy over me.”

“Snoopy’s closer to my height.”

Ryan opened his mouth to respond but instead picked up his plate and walked over to the couch. Shane laughed so hard he couldn’t open his eyes, grasping the edge of the table. He could hear Ryan snickering as well.

Much of the stress he’d held in his body was emerging via laughter, and it felt _amazing_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao i went a little wild here. sorry, my bad! as soon as shane said that whole "you go to parties in college" thing my mind went wild.


	6. Do Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so exhausted. here's some sweetness with (and i'm sorry) the slightest, teensiest bit of angst. because i can't help myself. and they're idiots.

Shane watched suspiciously as Ryan stood from the couch, phone clutched in hand. His face was twisted in thought, so twisted it was nearly transparent as to what was going on in his head. Not transparent enough to know details. Transparent enough to know the genre of thought.

“You okay?” He asked quietly, knowing the answer was _probably not_.

Ryan nodded, looking over his shoulder. “Yeah, man. Just going to the bathroom.”

Shane smiled at him. It was reciprocated. Shane looked back to his phone for a moment before glancing back up, watching Ryan slow down toward the bathroom door and enter the bedroom instead, closing the door quietly behind him.

“Okay,” Shane said to himself, placing his phone face down on the couch next to him. “Can’t be great, uh… can’t be _great_ news, then.”

Shane stayed on the couch for a long time, in retrospect. That was admirable. He wanted to give Ryan his privacy, that was important, but he wasn’t going to pretend like he had no concerns whatsoever. Shane’s plan was just to wait for Ryan to come back out and ask him then. But it didn’t feel right, it wasn’t dramatic enough. His concern was suffocating him.

He sat outside the bedroom, his back to the bathroom door, his legs stretched across the hall will his feet pressed against the opposite wall. He could hear Ryan speaking quietly, probably doing his vlog therapy thing. That was good as long as he needed it – yet Shane felt slightly disappointed, though he had no real reason to. Why _did_ he need it, right now? What did he need to talk through? Their situation wasn’t _great_ , but they were getting through it together. Sure, maybe Ryan didn’t feel as stoked as Shane did for various reasons regarding emotion and preference and… other miscellaneous things. It couldn’t be so unbearable that Ryan needed to vlog about it, right?

Shane heard Ryan say, “…I don’t know, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.” The voice was closer – Ryan must be nearly done, walking toward the door. He could hear the little _beep_ of the video being stopped, and suddenly the door opened.

Ryan nearly jumped out of his skin as he saw Shane sitting in the dark hallway, almost dropping his phone in the process.

“Jesus _fuck,_ Shane!” He slipped his phone into his shorts pocket. “What are you doing?”

Shane felt a little bit of a sting in his chest, but he would think about that later. _Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea? You chose to come here!_ “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great.”

Shane hummed. “Okay,” he said quietly. He didn’t move. “Are you sure?”

“… Yes,” Ryan said, like he was trying to figure out if that was the right answer.

After a long while of just staring at each other, Shane ran a hand through his hair before letting his arm fall into his lap. “You know… like, you can talk to me, right? About things.”

Ryan blinked. “I do.”

“Things that make you upset or stressed, I mean.” Shane’s voice was quivering and he heard it in his own ears and it made it much worse. “And… like. Sorry, I’m just – if you don’t _want_ to talk, that’s fine. I just… y’know, I worry about you because I care about you… uh, which… I thought would sound better in my head… and it sounded more like a mom in a Lifetime Original movie.”

“It did, yeah.” Ryan didn’t laugh. He stared down at Shane with an unrecognizable wide-eyed expression. “But we don’t… you don’t talk to people you care about, so. That’s the code.”

“Ryan.” Shane’s shoulders went slack. “C’mon.”

Ryan smiled with one corner of his mouth. “Yeah. I’ll talk to you or whatever. Whatever you want.”

Shane dropped his head into his hands. This wasn’t going well, he’s not doing this right. “No, I – Ryan, I.” He tilted his neck back up, resting his chin in his palm. “I’m fucking this up.”

“Fucking what up?” Ryan asked. He nudged Shane’s calf with his shoe. Shane folded his legs inward so Ryan could sit across from him. “It’s a nice sentiment, I just don’t have anything to talk about.”

“Look, I know that the vlog thing is really helpful and it might be less stressful than talking to a real-life person.” Shane didn’t know where he was going with this. “But, uh… I guess, you gotta have _something_ to talk about if you need to make a video, is what I’m saying.”

A beat. “It’s not really something I can talk about with you, Shane.”

Shane nodded slowly. He was trying to go over in his head all the things he might have done wrong. He couldn’t come up with anything, but he must have been missing it. “Right.” He scratched the side of his cheek. He needed to shave. Maybe that was it. “Uh, alright.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ryan said softly. He reached across the way and patted Shane’s knee. Shane felt comforted and terrified at the same time. “Why are you sitting on the ground, anyway?”

“I was worried.”

“Well, don’t do that.”

Shane laughed. “Right, yeah. What was I thinking?”

Ryan stood and held a hand out to Shane. Shane took it and grunted as he was pulled to his feet. “We had a good sitting situation going on the couch. Let’s go back to that.”

Shane tried to forget it, truly he did. He remembered all the times Ryan said things like _I’d like us to be closer._ That couldn’t have been said while Ryan was regretting coming here, right? Or when he was talking about being jealous of the mascot. Why would he say that, if he was so desperate to get out of here? Ryan’s video messages were private and he’d never see them – but he would have killed to know the sentence that came before _maybe this wasn’t such a good idea._ But it wasn’t for him to know.

“Why does your face look like that?” Ryan knocked his shoulder into Shane’s as he passed him in the kitchen, dying for a beer. “Like you’re coming to a mind-numbing realization?”

“Oh, to be a novel character in the midst of an epiphany.” Shane leaned up on his tiptoes to reach for the higher cabinet. Why did he always put the Cheez-Its up there? He couldn’t even reach. “I’m pretty sure this is just what my face looks like.”

“I know what your face is like. That’s not it.” Shane almost died immediately as Ryan slipped between him and the countertop. His hands froze in place, staring down at Ryan with the classic _what the fuck is happening_ look. Ryan’s chest was pressed against his. “What’s wrong? What are you thinking about?”

“Just trying to get some Cheez-Its.”

“Hm,” Ryan said. “You sure?”

“Yep. Do you want some?”

“Was it about what happened earlier?”

“Why do you think it was a bad idea to come here?” Shane gave up on the prospect of having Cheez-Its. He let his arms fall and took a step back, giving Ryan space to go into the other room if he wanted. “I know it’s only been like a week or so, and I don’t want to make things awkward, but it’s pretty much eating me alive at this point.”

Ryan didn’t seem too upset. Just confused. “What do you mean?”

“When I was sitting outside – and I was just sitting there because I was worried, not because I was trying to listen – I heard you saying it wasn’t a good idea. To come stay with me.” Shane crossed his arms over his chest before realizing how pouty it probably looked and putting his hands on his hips. He wanted to pace around but he figured that wouldn’t be helpful. “And that’s fine, y’know. Like I’m not upset, I get that… a- a thousand percent, I understand. I just want to know what I can do to help. Or make it better. Or something. I don’t know.”

Ryan pursed his lips. “It’s just awkward, I guess.”

That kind of hurt. Shane didn’t know why. Shane didn’t know a lot of things. “Ah, okay.”

“Because of me! Not you, I swear.” Ryan slipped his hands into his pockets. He was still pinned against the counter like Shane was still standing over him. “I’m just weird and it would probably be better to be weird alone.”

“Right.” Shane hummed as if that made sense. “Why?”

“It’s easier to struggle alone – oh, shit, that was deep.” Ryan laughed. Shane tried to laugh as well but he was still lost in his head. “Uh. I just mean, like. I’m not gonna _leave._ I couldn’t if I wanted to, but I like hanging out with you. I just… and you weren’t supposed to hear that, so.”

“I didn’t mean to, I promise.” Shane just wanted to forget that he’d said it. This was such a stupid source of stress. But he had no way to control it. He could feel tears swimming in his eyes. Why was he always so damn emotional? “It’s okay. I’m, uh, sorry that you’re stuck with me.”

Something happened in Ryan’s brain. A switch was clicked. Shane watched it happen. Ryan’s awkward smile faded into one of those looks. Like he was coming to a mind-numbing realization.

Just a few feet across the room, Ryan was coming to a mind-numbing realization.

The way Shane said that. _I’m uh, sorry that you’re stuck with me._ The tone. It wasn’t joking or preparing for a punchline. Shane was done speaking. He was waiting for Ryan to change the subject or grab that beer and go to the living room, probably so he could get to the Cheez-its. _I’m, uh, sorry that you’re stuck with me._

A few hours earlier, Ryan was sitting on Shane’s bed – _Shane’s bed! –_ and talking to his phone camera about various things. Not really various. Just Shane.

“Why did I come here?” He spoke quietly. “Really, Ryan. Why did you think this was a good idea?” There’s a framed picture of Shane and his family on the wall – Shane’s wearing a Christmas turtleneck and his arms are hooked around his brother’s shoulders. All Ryan can think is where he would have stood in that photo. “I guess… I don’t know, I thought maybe Shane might… like, that time when he asked if I wanted a massage? I talked about it before. Several times. That couldn’t have been a favor between bros, right?” He props the phone up on the nightstand, running his hands through his hair. “So why isn’t he doing anything? Maybe I read it wrong.”

Now, Ryan was looking at Shane and finding that he probably hadn’t read it wrong at all.

“I’m not stuck with you, you know. I’m the one who chose to come here.” He was trying to tread lightly. If he was wrong and Shane really _was_ just a frustrated friend, it would be embarrassing to just come out and say it.

“Yeah, but you regret it – eh, it’s fine.” Shane waved his hands and made one of those funny faces he always makes. He was trying to move on. Ryan figured if he was in that situation, he would have done the same. “Don’t worry about it. I’m crashing from caffeine, I’m not making any sense.”

“You’re making sense.”

Shane walked over and ushered Ryan to the side. “Do you want any Cheez-its?” He managed to shift the box close enough to grab with his fingertips. The box fell into his arms – he cradled it like it was his child.

“Shane.” _Here goes_. “I wasn’t doing a bit when I said I wanted us to get closer.”

Shane swallowed a stutter. “I don’t… I don’t really know what that means, but I’m sure it’ll be a blast.”

Not as friends. “I didn’t think it was good for me to stay here because, if we spent all this time together and you ended up not… feeling the same for me, I didn’t know what I was gonna do.”

Shane almost dropped the box. “Huh?”

“I’m not going to say it again,” Ryan squinted at him like a challenge, trying on a smile. Shane’s eyes were scanning the scene in front of him, searching for proof that this wasn’t a dream. “Just. Am I reading this wrong? Am I… did I fuck it up?”

“I… I figured I’d just cross the feelings bridge when I got to it,” Shane murmured. “Like, if you didn’t… I’d just deal with that later. I like spending time with you too much.”

“So, you do!” Ryan closed his hands into fists to keep from throwing them over his head. He questioned himself. “Really?”

Shane seemed like he wasn’t sure if he and Ryan were on the same page. “…Yeah, I think? What are you asking me?”

“Were you upset because you thought I didn’t like you?”

“Oh, yeah. For sure.” Shane clutched the box close to his person. “I was gonna have a breakdown when you went to sleep.”

“Aw,” Ryan’s eyebrows drew together. “Well, don’t do that.”

“Believe me, I won’t.” Shane stayed completely still, almost frozen. “I… uh, probably wouldn’t tell you if I was still planning on it.”

Ryan wasn’t sure what to do. They’d just… they’d just told each other they liked each other in that way, right? It was a bit primary, but it happened. So why wasn’t Shane doing anything?

“Why are you standing there like that?” Ryan asked. Maybe Shane needed an invitation.

“I’m afraid that, if I move, you’re gonna disintegrate and I’ve been hallucinating you this whole time. Wouldn’t that be fun?” Shane wore a traitorous smile and Ryan’s shoulders relaxed. “So. What happens now?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan practically whispered. “I think maybe we should eat, like, a real meal. That isn’t… uh, Cheez-its.”

“Uh-huh,” Shane said, slowly retrieving his hand from the bag, the crinkle of the bag filling the space. “And then after that?”

“Don’t know.” They were still very far away from each other. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”

Shane placed the box on the counter behind him. “I don’t know how you missed it, now that I think about it. I offered to massage you.”

“Hey! Well, _I_ made a show where we go on dates for a few days!”

“So did I.”

Ryan crossed his arms over his chest. Shane mimicked him. Their heads were both swimming.

“Huh,” they both said at the same time. They looked at each other for a long time – like the friendship veil had been lifted and they suddenly didn’t know each other. _Huh_ , a mutual noise of _we must be truly fucking stupid, then._

“Well,” Shane said. “I think I can put my charger back in my room.” His face became stricken with fear and he looked toward Ryan. His demeanor looked as if a bomb had just gone off by his head and he could only hear ringing. “…Right?”

“Shane, it’s your fucking room. Do what you want.” Ryan shook his head. “I took the comforter off since it’s so hot in there, though.”

“S’fine.” Shane ran a hand through the hair on the back of his head, glancing around the living room. It was a new space. He chuckled to himself but didn’t say another word.

And things proceeded as normal. He only difference, in truth, was the distance between them had virtually disappeared. Maybe it was the nerves that kept their words the same – that one wrong pet name and they’d tumble back into the real world – but not a full minute passed where they weren’t touching in some way or another. They both looked content with the arrangement of casualness – simply because they truly believed the other party was content and kept their mouth shut for this reason.

Around one in the morning, when their eyelids were slipping closed as they sat up in the bed and watched _A Single Man_ while trying to remember why they thought this would be a lighthearted film to put on, Shane opened his mouth. He stared ahead at the screen as the credits crawled upwards, muttering, “I know that your video diary is private – “

“S’not a diary,” Ryan mumbled in response. He was tired, yet intrigued.

“ – and not for the viewing public, but do you think I could see a little bit of the part where you talk about me?” His eyes didn’t stray from the television, wearing a thoughtful expression not dampened by exhaustion. “Or just, give me a tasteful summary, maybe.”

Ryan, up to that point, had made a deal with himself – never show Shane. He didn’t look his best in any of them, the comfort of the videos coming from the lack of an audience. But it didn’t matter anymore. Shane was going to see him in much worse shape. That’s what happens when you get into a relationship. You see their goblin sides.

“Sure, I’ll show you.” Ryan caught Shane’s head snap to glance at him just before he rolled onto his stomach to reach for his phone. “I don’t give a shit. You get special privileges now.”

Shane snorted. “Yeah? Am I one of your patrons?”

“Are you giving me money?”

“I can give you… other things.” Shane closed an eye, uncomfortable with his own words. “Sorry, I’m – I’m not awake enough to… to talk right.”

“I don’t care,” Ryan said, though he was smothering a smidgen of giddiness. He unlocked his phone, rolling back over to show Shane. He found himself tucked into Shane’s side, confused but cozy. “Was I this close to you before?”

“Don’t think so,” Shane said. He let out a long breath. “Don’t move, though.”

“I wouldn’t.” Ryan scrolled through his video – from his _journal –_ trying to get to the part that Shane would be interested in. Past the quiet excuses Ryan was making and the several minutes of silence with his head in his hands. “There.” He handed the phone to Shane, who took it as if the phone would shatter if jostled too quickly.

Shane watched silently until phone-Ryan said _So, why isn’t he doing anything?_ and made a noise in the back in his throat. He handed Ryan’s phone back. “Hold on.”

“Uh,” Ryan said. He thought Shane wanted to watch this – why was he giving it back? It wasn’t the end yet! “Okay.” He pushed his phone back onto the nightstand without looking over his shoulder, just reaching blindly and hoping for the best. “What are you – “

“You showed me yours,” Shane was opening his Photos app. He placed his phone in Ryan’s hands, a video with a blurry thumbnail opened. “Here’s mine.”

“Your what?”

“Video dia – _journal_.” Shane waved toward the phone, a _go for it_ gesture. “I think… well, it’s terrible, but I think we were on the same page.”

Ryan swallowed through a dry throat. Shane tried vlog therapy? When was this? How long ago? He tried another glance toward Shane before hitting play.

_Shane set the phone up against the wall – he was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his main room. There were still scraps of felt from the building of the puppet theater despite the weeks that had passed since the actual creation of his inanimate child. The image was dark and unclear, but Ryan could almost see the tears shining on Shane’s cheeks. He wasn’t crying actively, but he’d probably had a moment a few minutes before hitting record. Maybe that’s what caused the recording._

_“This is stupid,” Shane said to himself, smiling at the camera in that fake sort of way. “Hey. Uh, future Shane. I don’t want to do this but. Apparently it works.”_

_He poked at the carpet with his finger. “Uh. This is… day three of wallowing. I mean, I was wallowing before. I’ve been wallowing for a year or so. But, like. Non-stop. This is stupid.” He placed his head in his hands._

In real life, Shane looked away from the phone and looked up as if he were actually interested in the credits rolling up the television screen. He made another faint noise. It was probably killing him to show this and Ryan took that at face value.

_“Uhhhhhh. So, it’s the night before launch. I think… I think I was fine when we were in the office. I think I had it under control – that might have been because of Steven and Ryan being present. It’s uh,” Shane lifted his head to look around at his apartment, “it’s lonelier, here. Probably because… there’s no one else here. Duh. Dumb. Anyway.”_

_Shane seemed to zone out for a while, just a minute’s worth of lost-looking Shane staring off into space._

Shane offered to skip forward. Ryan shook his head.

_“I guess. I guess I’m frustrated with myself,” Shane said finally. He nodded, a confirmation. “I know… like, I just know that we’ve gotta be together at some point, in some important way. I’d like it to be, uhhh, as they say – a romantic relationship. And… and sometimes I look at him and I think, y’know. Maybe I’m just projecting my own fantasies on other people, but I think I can see that he knows that too.” Shane bit his lip, shaking his head. He looked back at the camera. “So… so why don’t I do something?”_

Ryan blinked. Oh.

_“I think…” Shane sighed, picking up his phone. Before the recording stopped, he said, “I think I’ll… I think I’ll text him. I’ll -”_

And then the video ended.

“And then you came over, didn’t you.”

“Mhmm,” Shane said quietly. “I don’t know why I didn’t do anything. I had a whole speech planned out, and then you opened the door and I… I didn’t do anything. ”

Ryan took a moment to align all of the information he’d just learned with every concern he had. They fit like a glove. “No. No, you did. You did a lot, I just… I didn’t see it.”

“It’s fine,” Shane tightened his arm around Ryan’s shoulder. Neither of them remembered it getting there. “We’re both seein’ pretty clear, right now.”

“No, I mean.” Ryan had never ‘curled up’ to someone before, but he found himself curled up against Shane. A limp fist rested on Shane’s chest. “You… you told me you were checking me out, that was pretty clear and I just… completely missed it. And then you offered me a massage – “

“You just can’t get over that massage, can you?” Shane laughed. Ryan felt the vibrations through his cheek. “If you still want one, I still have the ability to give you one.”

“Maybe tomorrow. Anyway.” Ryan smooshed his face against Shane. It was nice. “I don’t know what I was thinking. You weren’t subtle.”

“Well, you were,” Shane took a deep breath. “But I figured I didn’t have much to lose.”

A few moments passed. Maybe a few days. They weren’t counting.

“So,” Ryan began. “I saw that text from Katie, saying when we’re filming the next SD&D&D…”

Ryan felt Shane shift, heard the thud of his head falling back against the wall. “Oh, yeah. Real life awaits.”

“… and I was wondering. Are we gonna have to video call each other… from different rooms?”

“Probably. To, uh, keep the consistency.” Shane stuttered for a moment. “Model social distancing and such.”

“Hm,” Ryan said. “Well. I’ll probably miss you, then.”

Shane choked on the air.

“G-go to sleep, Ryan. Jesus.” Ryan could hear the smile in his voice. Then, quietly, “I’ll miss you too.”

There was a moment, right before he fell asleep, where Ryan thought about every stressful situation he’d encountered in the past five years. He could remember Shane being there for most of them, holding a hand out or offering an ear. It was a comfort.

That stress would return someday, Ryan knew that very well, but for a moment he felt as though he’d never feel anything but calm for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading this. this was a weird experience - i hadn't tried to write something relevant to the boys' current lives in a long time so it was a little nerve-wracking to try and make things seem at least PLAUSIBLE. but that's what Universe Alterations are for :,) 
> 
> thank you for reading. it's three in the morning and my brain isn't functioning while writing this. i hope you're safe and happy. i love you.


End file.
